


we will shine on through

by summerplaylist



Series: the hero of the skies [3]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:31:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7985242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerplaylist/pseuds/summerplaylist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when Ghirahim thought they had reached the final step, he discovered they were still a thousand steps behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

Link didn't know what he wanted. Two years ago, it would have been easy to pin down. He wanted to become a knight and live on his own someday. He wanted to be normal and he wanted to fall in love.

But now, after everything, he wasn't so sure.

Ghirahim promised him that he could have everything, anything he ever wanted and more. Together, he said, they could take on the world. But promises weren't everything, they didn't mean everything; and Link still wasn't sure what he wanted, so those words didn't mean nearly as much as they should.

“Do you want to get married?” Ghirahim asked, and Link just shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said. “It isn't that.”

“Do you want some pumpkin soup?”

Link laughed. He hated this indecision. The waiting. There was a routine now to everything they did. Double dates with Zelda and Groose on the weekends. Tutoring with Instructor Owlan during the evenings.

And everyday, all day, with Ghirahim. Which was wonderful—more than wonderful. It was amazing.

But Link didn't like routine. He hated it.

“Maybe we can finally move out of the Academy,” Ghirahim suggested. “Move into your old house.”

“Not yet,” Link said. “It isn't that.”

Ghirahim pushed Link back on the bed, straddling his hips. He had that playful look his face, the one that filled Link with something close to desire, but it wasn't that—it was more than desire, it was love.

“Do you want me?” Ghirahim asked.

“Always,” Link promised, running his fingers through Ghirahim's hair. “But it isn't that.”

*

A few days later, during one of Link's study sessions, Ghirahim asked it again. Link didn't know much Skyloftian—the letters were too much, too confusing—but he could understand the words Ghirahim had written out for him.

He passed it like a note. Like he was a kid who might get in trouble if he got caught. But the only authority in the room was Instructor Owlan, and as far as Link was concerned, they were equals.

Link took the paper from Ghirahim's hand, unfolding it under the desk. The letters were large, and after a few seconds of concentration, Link deciphered them.

“Will you marry me?” Ghirahim whispered, confirming the contents of the note. A blush crept down his neck, very pink and very human.

Link was absolutely endeared, but that didn't mean he wasn't nervous, too.

Instructor Owlan looked up but quickly looked back down, frantically scribbling whatever it was he scribbled in his books.

“Not yet,” Link said.

Ghirahim reached under the desk, steadying the jitters in Link's leg with a reassuring touch. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn't mean to pressure you.”

Link refolded the note, tucking it into the front of the notebook he used for class. It was filled with his attempts at writing Skyloftian letters and more than a few doodles Ghirahim drew whenever he got bored.

“I'm going to go take my break,” Instructor Owlan announced, snapping his book shut. He stood up, edging towards the door. “I'll be back shortly.”

The door closed softly behind him, leaving Link with his mess of emotions and Ghirahim with his embarrassment.

“Sorry,” Ghirahim repeated.

“I want to get married,” Link said. “Just not so soon.”

Ghirahim picked up his pen, scrawling in Link's notebook a doodle of a flower that matched the ones tattooed all over Link's body. “What do you want, then?”

“I want to stop worrying about my eyes and I want to stop stressing about learning how to write.” Link picked up his own pen, taking Ghirahim's hand in his own. He drew the Triforce, but Link still didn't have a very good concept of shapes, so the triangles were more than a little lopsided.

“Life comes with responsibilities,” Ghirahim said gently. “It's a part of growing up, I guess.”

Link sighed at the result of Ghirahim's Triforce, but didn't let go of his hand. He threaded their fingers together. “Well, you've had a thousand years to grow up. I haven't had nearly so many.”

Ghirahim cracked a smile. “True. But… You have time, Link. There isn't an imaginary timer anymore tracking down your days. You're free to do whatever it is you want to do.”

Instructor Owlan burst back into the room, carrying a tray of cookies. “Gift from Henya,” he said. “She asked about you, Link. She wanted to know how you were coming along.”

He set the tray before them. Pumpkin cookies, of course. Definitely from Pumpkin Landing. Was Henya really fooling anyone? The woman could barely make toast.

“What did you tell her?” Link asked. “That I'm hopeless and I'll never learn?”

Ghirahim snatched up a cookie. “Don't say that about yourself. Most kids learn when they're, like, five. You're eighteen.”

“Which should make it easier.”

“Which makes it harder,” Instructor Owlan said sternly. He picked up his book, flipping to where he'd left off. “Now let's resume the lesson. Link, if you'd please, recite the Skyloftian alphabet from the beginning.”

*

After the lessons, Ghirahim liked to take Link around Skyloft. He pointed out all of the things Link hadn't been able to see over the years. They learned about Skyloft together, learned everything there was to know about the land Hylia had created.

And it was almost like a therapy session for Link. Ghirahim always let him talk about however he was feeling, whatever he was feeling, without pressing him for too many details. And it was nice, because Ghirahim was the only person who Link felt never judged him. Not about anything. 

And he never rushed him to explain how he felt; he just waited for Link's words to come to him, because sometimes it was harder than other times, and sometimes the words wouldn't come at all—no matter how hard he tried.

The sun was setting, the sky streaked with pink. Ghirahim tugged at the scarf around Link's neck, pulling him into an embrace.

“I love you,” he said, kissing the top of Link's head. “Are you angry with me?”

Link rested against Ghirahim's chest, listening to his heartbeat through the thick material of his sweater. “No,” he said. “Why should I be?”

“You know why.” Ghirahim tugged at Link's scarf absentmindedly, pulling at the tassels. “Because I asked you to marry me. Twice. And both times were on the same day.”

“I want to marry you,” Link said. “But why would you want to marry me?”

Ghirahim stepped away from Link, holding him at arm's length. “Why would you say something like that?”

Link shrugged. He wanted Ghirahim to hold him close again. His eyes were always so jumpy after the lessons, his words all jumbled in his throat.

“Of course I would want to marry you,” Ghirahim said. “I wouldn't have asked otherwise.”

Link tried to speak, but the words were lost. He had done all of the talking he could do today—he'd said too much.

Ghirahim pulled him close again. The night was growing cold. “I love you,” he said. “More than you will ever know.”

*

Groose and Zelda had been sickening lately. To the point that Link wanted to hurl. He hoped he and Ghirahim weren't that bad. If they were, he hoped someone would tell them before it was too late.

“How much casserole do you want, babe?” Groose asked. As always, he was the chef. Between knight duties and being Ghirahim's best friend, he somehow had enough time to learn how to cook.

Zelda draped herself over him, wrapping her arms around his thick bicep. She nodded when he'd given her enough, then began peppering his face with kisses.

“Not around the guests!” Groose winked, but Link didn't return the gesture.

The past few days had been weird. Maybe saying no to Ghirahim's proposal hurt their relationship. Or maybe that was all Link's imagination and he just had to relax about it.

Either way, the last few days had been weird.

Groose filled everyone else's plates (somehow neglecting to ask how much everyone else wanted) and sat down at the head of the table.

“We have news,” Groose said. “Zelda and I have been living together for awhile now, and…”

“We're getting married!”

Link lost all of his appetite. Not that he'd had much to begin with.

“Congratulations!” Ghirahim said. He clapped his hands. “How'd you finally muster up the courage, Groose?”

Groose blushed. “Well, if it hadn't been for you and all of your tips, I guarantee that I'd still have the ring hidden in my sock drawer.”

Link stood up from the table. “I need some air,” he said. “Excuse me, please.”

Ghirahim stood up as well, his chair screeching against the hardwood floor. “Don't go,” he said softly. “Not again.”

Link felt embarrassed. An outburst in front of Zelda and Groose! He should be congratulating them, not be on the verge of tears.

“What's wrong?” Zelda asked, and Link felt even worse, because now Groose's casserole was going cold and what was the point of a double date if it wasn't filled with laughter and good times?

“Nothing,” Link said. He sat back down, Ghirahim following his lead. But he didn't want to sit back down. He wanted to go somewhere quiet and he wanted to tell Ghirahim that yes, he did want to marry him. He wanted to marry him now while they were still young and while they had years and years to spend together.

But not now and not yet.

Not so soon.

*

Ghirahim was late coming home that night. Link waited in bed, cuddled up with nearly a hundred blankets and pillows. The room he had lived in for nearly seven years surrounded him; it was a room that he'd outgrown, a room that had never truly felt like his own since he'd been forced to go down to the Surface and do Hylia's bidding.

He felt sick. Like he was burning. And maybe he was. Maybe he was burning to a crisp from the weight of it all.

Link covered his head with a pillow, willing his tears away. Crying was unbecoming in a hero. He should be strong, not feeling like his world was crashing down around him.

Because it wasn't. Life was good. Really, it was. Link didn't know what he wanted, because he should have been grateful. He had everything.

What did he want?

Ghirahim opened the bedroom door with his key, walking inside with tentative steps. He set some packages down on Link's desk, rearranged some things, then tripped over to the bed. He leaned down, lifting the pillow away from Link's tear-stained face.

“Tell me what's wrong,” Ghirahim said. “I've know you long enough to know when something's wrong.”

“Do you remember when we first met?” Link asked. He sat up, pillows and blankets sliding off of him and onto the floor. “Do you remember what I said?”

Ghirahim sat down beside him, the mattress settling beneath his weight. He was still dressed for the evening, and the smell of his cologne magnified all of Link's senses.

“Of course I do,” Ghirahim said. “I remember every moment I've spent with you.”

Link took a sharp breath. “You saved me from drowning. And all I could say was I looking for a friend. I was an absolute imbecile.”

Ghirahim took off his shoes; they each clattered against the hardwood floor. He rubbed his sock feet together for warmth. Winter was always cold in Skyloft; almost unbearably so. “It's understandable. I didn't exactly have the best intentions at the time.”

“If I told you I was the hero in that moment, would you have killed me?”

Ghirahim suddenly leaned over, grabbing both of Link's wrists. Link's floral tattoos shone brilliantly in the darkness, shimmering with whatever magic he had running through his veins. “Yes,” he said. “I think I would have.”

“I don't what you to marry me because you think you have to, because you feel obligated to love the boy you hated.” Link closed his eyes regardless of those words. He was coming undone at Ghirahim's touch, at the feeling of his skin against his own.

Ghirahim kissed Link on the mouth, pining his wrists together. The kiss was long and Link lost all sense of time and lost all sense of the stress weighing down on him. All he could think was Ghirahim—his lips, his touch, his very being.

Which Ghirahim finally pulled away, Link almost begged for more.

“I know I don't have to marry you,” Ghirahim said. “I _want_ to marry you. Isn't that enough?”

Link almost said yes right then and there. He watched Ghirahim smile through the darkness, and that smile alone was what held him back.

“Maybe you should ask me again,” Link suggested. “Maybe the answer will be exactly what you expect.”

Ghirahim's smile vanished. “What if the answer isn't?”

“Well, I guess uncertainty is just a part of growing up.”

*

With snow falling all around them, with the cold biting Link's cheeks, Ghirahim finally asked the question.

It had been weeks. Link was beginning to think he never would ask, maybe not ever again. The time stretched, the hours were filled, but Ghirahim's mouth never formed those words.

The snow was falling. Memories swarmed Link's mind; memories of the cold and regaining his vision and seeing the love of his life for the very first time.

Ghirahim got down on one knee, producing a ring from the pocket of his coat. The gemstone was dark like the night, with glimmers of purple threaded throughout it. 

“Link,” he began, saying his name like it was the most precious thing in the world to him. And maybe it was. “Hero of the Skies and love of my life, will you marry me?”

Link blinked. The words were always lost when he needed them most, when they needed to be said the most.

The ring began to tremble in Ghirahim's fingers. “We can wait as long as you like, as long as you need. But will you—won't you take this ring?”

Link fell to his knees. He took the ring from Ghirahim, curling his fist around it. And he pressed his lips to Ghirahim's cheek, telling him something that would never be so easily said with something as fragile as words.

“I love you,” Ghirahim said. His lips were blue from the cold, his words ghosting the air with puffs of white. “I love you so damn much.”

Link felt the ring cut into his palm. And the love he felt for Ghirahim—it could never be matched, not by anyone, not in a thousand years.

Maybe not ever again.


	2. epilogue

There had been moments in Ghirahim's life—moments where he had felt truly afraid.

When his mother left him and Fi all alone. When his father became a beast called Demise.

When Hylia betrayed him.

But it was becoming easier for Ghirahim to divide his life into three parts. There was his life before Link—the thousand year wait—then his life with Link.

But there had been so many moments in Ghirahim's life that had terrified him. And sadly, some of those moments included Link. When he thought he was dead, carried off into some void by Lanayru. When he'd left him for a month without an explanation.

When he'd said no to his proposal not once, but multiple times.

If uncertainty was a part of growing up, Ghirahim supposed he had to deal with it. Even if that uncertainty covered him whole and haunted his days, he supposed he had to deal with it.

There was no other choice.

*

Ghirahim hated manual labor. Not that he would admit that to Link, especially after everything they had been through together.

“What color should this room be?” Link asked.

“You barely know your colors,” Ghirahim gently reminded him with a kiss on the cheek. “Does it really matter?”

Link didn't respond. He did that often. Ever since Faron and her damn Tadtones, Link was usually tongue-tied and silent.

Their new home was mostly completed. They had spent an entire weekend devoted to cleaning out everything that had been sitting in there for years.

Link didn't technically have a huge emotional attachment to any of the items. It had been too long since he'd lived there for something like that. But he still had to spend most of the weekend alone, processing it all.

But now the house was clean and they had furniture that was their very own. And as far as Ghirahim was concerned, they had everything they ever needed, just where they stood.

Ghirahim kissed Link again, this time on the mouth, and lifted him up onto the kitchen counter. The best memories were made not by chance but by action.

And this was the type of manual labor Ghirahim didn't mind nearly so much.

*

Zelda and Groose got married in a simple ceremony. Gaepora cried. Link had a permanent look of surprise on his face.

And Ghirahim was happy. For Groose, at least. He still wasn't sure what he thought about Zelda.

“I love the snow,” Link said when it was over. Groose was practically running, Zelda in his arms. They were laughing hysterically, off to do whatever it was married couples do with the rest of their lives.

They were happy. And that was more than anyone could ask for. More than anyone thought they would have for a long time.

“I love the snow because it was the first thing I was able to see after so long.” Link grinned. “Well, I did see you, I guess.”

Ghirahim poked Link in the side. He laughed, skirting away. “What did you think of me? Was I totally hideous?”

“You know what I thought.” Link poked his tongue out, trying to catch a snowflake. “I thought you were the most beautiful thing in the word.”

“More beautiful than the snow?”

Link stopped trying to catch a snowflake. He looked so serious, all of a sudden. “Of course you are,” he said. “You saved me when no one else would.”

“That's not fair to say.” Ghirahim ran his foot through the snow, making a short trail. “I was unwelcome, an absolute thorn in your side.”

“You were needed. Fi was dead and I never felt so lost. Then you were there, spouting off beautiful words like a poet.”

“How flattering.” Ghirahim shivered. The snow was swirling between them now. There would be a storm soon, maybe the worst of the year. And it was getting so dark, so luxuriously dark.

“When we kissed, you made me acknowledge the truth about myself. For so long, I was ashamed of it, tried to convince myself it wasn't real. But you kissed me, and it felt so right, and I…”

The words trailed away. Ghirahim wished he could hear more. He always wanted to hear more, but Faron robbed them of that.

The words were gone again. And Link was staring down at the snow, his eyes all crossed and jittery. And Ghirahim had never even thought to think that Link—his Link would ever feel so unsure of himself about something like that.

Ghirahim bridged the gap between them, taking Link's mittened hand in his own. It was so cold. They should have went home ages ago, with the fireplace burning and their warmth kept alive just by the touch of each other's skin.

There was nothing to say. Nothing Ghirahim was prepared to say.

But he felt closer to Link. Just when he thought they had reached the final step, he discovered they were still a thousand steps behind.

*

The snowstorm lasted for days. Which was good for Zelda and Groose, probably. They didn't have to worry about being bothered.

But it was so cold. Colder than Ghirahim had been prepared for, even though he'd been warned about winters in Skyloft nearly half a dozen times.

Link was probably annoyed by all of his complaining. Ghirahim was annoyed at himself, anyway, but Link didn't say a word about it. He was studying his letters instead.

And Ghirahim contented himself by covering himself with blankets and sitting as close to the fireplace as safety allowed.

“Were you married to Hylia?” Link asked suddenly. He was wearing three of Ghirahim's sweaters, which made him look adorable as hell.

Not that Ghirahim was thinking about that right now. He was thinking about how to answer Link's question.

“Almost,” he said.

“Okay.” Link wrote something down, the scribbling engraving itself in Ghirahim's mind.

When Link continued scribbling, Ghirahim could stay silent no longer. “Just… okay?”

“Okay.” Link stopped writing. He touched the ring Ghirahim had given him, twirling it around his finger. “You loved her enough to marry her, then.”

“We were just about to be. But then Demise showed up and ruined it.” Ghirahim hated saying it out loud. The memory still hurt him, even though he had plenty of time to move on.

“It's unfair to ask, but—”

“Then don't ask it.” Ghirahim closed his eyes, wishing that it wasn't snowing so he and Link could go somewhere. Anywhere. Somewhere that wasn't here, in this house, where bad memories bit them like mosquitoes. “You might not like what I have to say.”

Link was suddenly sitting on top of him, pinning Ghirahim down with his knees. “Do you love me most of all?” he asked. “Or am I second best?”

Ghirahim smiled despite himself. He opened his eyes, and Link was staring down at him. There was no obvious expression on his face, none that Ghirahim could immediately understand. “Yes,” he said tentatively. “Of course I do. If there's such a thing as soul mates, you're mine.”

Link leaned down, closing his eyes and tracing the planes of Ghirahim's face. His nose, his mouth, his chin. The touching ended with a kiss, long and languid, that left Ghirahim with a heat in his chest and the sudden wish winter would never end.

Maybe the endless expanse of days wasn't so bad after all. Maybe Ghirahim could content himself with the bad memories if it meant good ones could be made in their place.

And they had each other, didn't they? And they had their entire lifetimes to figure out what they wanted—what they needed, and what would eventually come to be.


End file.
